Starlight
by xMxRosex
Summary: She was the hunter. Nothing more. Nothing less. She watches the stars fall, and in her darkest moments, she prays that the star that falls isn't his. Series of oneshots.
1. The Hunter

As the sun finally dipped over the jagged horizon of purple skyscrapers, the city was left in abrupt darkness.

She came to a stop suddenly, panting heavily; unexpectedly closing her eyes.

_Breathe._

_Just breathe for a second. _

_Just for this__ second the world has to stop_.

She had to rid herself of the echoing sound of footsteps on the concrete landscape.

Amber lights at the corners of the building flickered on with the faltering of light.

Still with hooded lids, she ran her fingers over her gun, exploring the cold, calming ridges of metal.

The hurried rush flowed from her body.  
She couldn't mess this up.

Taking another deep breath, ignoring her mind telling her she would loose the scent; she focused, mentally mapping out her location.

It was deep city, as usual.

A whisper of movement to the far left, maybe a footfall, or just a movement of fabric, but she had to pay attention to it, she was the hunter.

Even if that's all it was, it would have to do.

If it really was him, there would be little more indication of a presence; he was quiet as a damned cat.

"Boss…Boss," came the crackled interference, "We've lost all connections with the observer apparitions in the sector, it's unheard of unless…well, it sure sounds like it BK-201 if you ask…"

So it really was him, and that doll of his.

"Boss…Boss-" She tore the wire out of her ear and threw it to the ground.

"Sorry Saitou" came the murmur with eyes set almost maniacally forward.

Evening's shadows traced on emotionless building walls.

She turned left.

The long ponytail was sent flying as she sprinted through the labyrinth of alleyways.

False stars and weak orange lights lit the path.

She didn't even notice as a black cat meowed frantically in her hurried wake.

She was the hunter.

Street lights flickered momentarily.

By God, it _was_ him.

She skidded to a stop at the entrance of the next alleyway.

It was too dark to see anything properly, but there were noises all around.

"Shit!" cried out an unfamiliar voice; it sounded surprisingly distant.

Then the street lights flickered again.

Kirihara sighed wearily, bringing out lines on her face that she was too young for.

She plunged in to the thick darkness.

Where were the footsteps coming from? They weren't around her, so they must be…from above?"

So that was it.

Biting the gun between her teeth, she began to climb up a steep ladder on the edge of what looked like a rundown apartment building, only a few stories high.

The grunts and metallic clashes ever closer with each step.

But what the hell did BK-201 have to do with the contractors she was chasing?

The stupid syndicate never knew when to stop, pitting their own against each other.

As she reached the top of the building, a dark shape slumped heavily in front of her.

A gurgling sound.

She'd know the noise anywhere.

Silently, trying to avoid battle she stepped over the dark shape, motionless on the ground, not wanting blood on her shoes again.

A star skimmed the sky overhead, momentarily tracing gold against a bruised background.

Her eyes peered ahead, wondering if the other contractors had noticed her presence.

She brought the gun back into her right hand.

Uncharacteristically she began to panic a little, a measly gun wasn't enough protection with these people around, and anything could happen when Li-kun…no, when BK-201 was involved.

A huge explosion ahead; bringing up dust. She covered her mouth; coughing would only give her position away.

She knew that sound, so RQ-417 was on the roof too.

Jackpot.

Abruptly, all the building lights blasted on at full power, and the scene was finally revealed under golden glow.

The roof was in shambles, just ahead stood RQ-417 with his beautiful grey eyes and tall wiry body.

One could clearly see his trail of destruction, foot shaped holes were left on the thick cement, leading down into oblivion.

She glanced fleetingly out the corner of her eye to the body behind her.

He must have been SF-299, though Kirihara didn't know him by face. However, the six coloured pens in his top pocket were visible, though partially obscured by the crimson flow gushing from a clean neck wound. Those pens signified an infamous remuneration which would never be completed again.

Siren wails in the distance, shit, she'd have to hurry this up before her department got here.

BK-201 was nowhere to be seen, but these two contractors must have had some considerable skill because fragments or a certain mask were littered among the rubble.

She ignored her thunderously pumping heart; he wasn't the one she was here for.

RQ-417 had been dazzled by the sudden lights as well, but now spied Kirihara standing directly in front of him, her gun pointing square at his heart.

A handsome smile lit up his face, but he couldn't disguise his heavy breathing, nor a thick gash on his right thigh.

"Well if it isn't little Misaki, my favourite of all the police in Japan."

Her eyes remained cold and unseeing.

"RQ-417 you're under arrest. Put your hands behind your head, and sit on the ground, legs outstretched, feet pointing upwards."

"Haha! So you know my power well little Misaki."

"Put your hands behind your head, and sit on the ground, legs outstretched, feet pointing upwards."

He slid awkwardly to the ground to obey; placing his bloodied hands behind is silver hair, wincing in obvious pain.

"Ah, my little police woman, she's a hard task mistress is she not Black Reaper?"

He directed that at a broken window above, on the building next door.

It was the only room with no lights on.

Kirihara assumed that BK-201 was in one of the other rooms, he wasn't so obvious.

A chill blast of wind crept up and ripped her hair from its tie, falling messily on the back of her masculine suit.

"And she's beautiful." RQ-417 sighed blissfully.

Always oblivious, she looked at his eyes which flickered above.

"The sky?" she mused with narrowed eyes, moving closer.

The hunter.

The executioner.

This was the part she hated.

"The sky?" he replied with glittering eyes, "Well yes, I suppose that's beautiful too."

Safety off.

"You're wrong. The sky isn't beautiful anymore RQ-417. It's fake."

Bang.

"Shit."

Red eyes, blue glow.

Shot a second too late.

He rolled on the ground, just missing the bullet, and clambered to his feet.

She ran to the far wall, beneath the other building, needing a wall against her back for protection.

She took aim again.

He was running.

Too fast.

Explosions rocked the roof. Every step he took left a deadly footprint.

Steeling her nerve, pushing the wayward blowing hair out of her eyes with her left hand; she shot again.

"Urgh!" He slowed as his shoulder was blown apart in a deep red splatter, but he smiled with too white teeth through the pain.

Looked like a shark.

"Tut tut, if you play nicely Princess Misaki, I'll make it nice and quick.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

He was coming too fast.

She almost wished she hadn't abandoned her earpiece on the ground, but then, she was always too stubborn when _he_ was involved.

Damn, there wasn't enough time to think.

And then he was there, right in front of her, and she could smell the blood and cologne.

He kicked at her in a glint of silver; she rolled to the side on the wall, barely missing the explosive impact which hollowed out a deep abyss through the building.

He grabbed her arms, incredibly strong even with a shattered shoulder.

Pinned her to the concrete wall, slamming her head against it.

Metallic liquid spurting from her lips.

Gun clattered to the ground.

Her eyes still icy and businesslike.

She'd die letting him know she felt no fear.

She'd die a hunter.

"I'm gonna miss you, my sweet little Misaki."

Hard lips against her own, tasting her blood.

"That's Kirihara-san to you" she spat out, trying to struggle, but failing.

Her body rendered helpless after the blow to the head, the world was swimming.

Everything seemed to slow down.

Every movement, worth a lifetime.

It was all she could do not to fall asleep.

She fell to the ground as he let go and prepared to stamp right through her body.

Right through her gut.

This was it.

She stared him right through the eyes, but there was nothing there.

After all, he was a contractor.

Then she stared at the sky.

She had lied before, it really was beautiful.

Slicing metal through air.

Those knives.

Those familiar knives, buried in flesh.

One in the neck.

One through his raised foot.

Kirihara slumped further into the concrete, tangled in her long hair.

Eyes misty and fogged with relief and exhaustion.

They couldn't stop looking into the fake heavens.

A black presence leaned on the wall beside her.

She felt for her gun, but it was too far away.

Well, that's what she told herself.

"Why?" she whispered hoarsely.

"It was my job to kill him," said that quiet, flat voice.

And he looked at the sky too, just for a minute, to watch the star fall.

The sirens now loud and flashing below.

Then the presence beside her melted away.

Slowly, clutching the wall, she stood up, picked up her gun and achingly made her way across the roof and down the ladder.

She ignored the familiar voices now worrying over her in the flashing alleyway.

Her eyes set forward.

She was a hunter.


	2. Sweet Dreams of Oblivion

It was always on the nights that rained.

Watching the raindrops, aglow with city light, slide down black glass before plunging into oblivion.

Death at the bottom of the urban graveyard.

And for a moment she could let the world go quiet; pressing her back against a cold window.

The nothingness would fill her up until it wasn't nothingness.

And in a sad way, to her it was beautiful.

Some of the armor painted on her exterior would flake.

And there she was on those rainy nights. Alone, lost in thought, and painfully content as the raindrops continued to slide to their deaths.

She lay, a mess of sheets; tangled in a web of limbs.

Tossing and turning in a tumble of dark hair.

A quiet, sterile room which smelt faintly of vanilla.

Cold night sweat shimmered on her body as she fell in and out of the glowing urbanity through the blinds.

Marred with bars of light.

Events of the day leaked from reality into the warped illusions of half-sleep.

She tried to shake the thoughts off, but memories clung to the roots of her hair. They twisted there and merged with the shadows of ideas which make up identity.

Fast, hot flashes of moments which re-forged old stories and played out new ones.

Then the themes started to reoccur.

Block them out.

Not now.

Just sleep.

Just sleep.

Just- damn it, those blue eyes.

Soulless, dead.

His colour, his black, echoing throughout her dreams in a rush of helplessness.

Always too late.

Always left behind, even in her mind's fiction.

Doors opening and closing.

Clocks ticking.

The scent of blood.

She shuddered.

Why couldn't he get out of her head?

He was her fixation.

She was drawn to him.

Not romance; something indescribable.

Rain sliding down the windows as she finally collapsed into unconsciousness.

The golden blur of un-reality.

Feet pounding the floor.

Doors flying open wildly.

A scream up ahead; and a girl with silver hair slumped in a puddle of water.

Couldn't stop to help.

He was there.

She didn't even know what she wanted to ask him.

Just being there would mean something.

And maybe she would finally understand; understand herself.

Understand this.

The bare corridor narrowed until everything was so close she couldn't breathe.

She pounded into the concrete, slammed against a door and fumbled with the handle.

Blood pulsing through her head.

_Open _

_Come on_

Scuffles in the next room.

Door clicked.

Flung open.

Pools of blood where a man lay shriveled on the floor.

"Who?" she managed to heave out, but she already knew the answer.

Window smashed open.

It was raining.

She flung herself out. The icy wind pushing her upwards, yet still she managed to fall.

Down, down into the urban graveyard.

Searching for him.

But always; always too late.

Enveloping darkness and cigarette smoke.

Into the black mirror.

Jolted awake.

The bedside table growled angrily as her phone vibrated; its ghostly luminescence seeping into the room.

She regretted being woken, as bad as the dream had been.

Slight sigh, she placed the phone to her ear.

"Kirihara here."

"Boss, sorry to distur-"

"Spit it out Kouno."

"Ah sorry…urgent report, BK 201's on the move, he just killed an MI6 contractor inside the British Embassy, code number YR 561. We wouldn't have called so late but…"

"But?"

"Well we just got confirmation from the Astronomy Bureau that BK 201 just used his powers to shut off the electricity in the building next to your apartment block. Apparently someone from MI6 is tailing him."

"Shit. Got it Kouno. Requesting backup. Be here as soon as you can."

"Understood."

She ran to the cupboard sling on her trench coat.

There was no time to dress properly.

Not when it was him.

Flicked on her light switch and cringed at the glare.

Grabbed her revolver, already loaded.

Safety off.

Then the electricity, it fizzled, and for a second her hair stood on end.

The lights fell.

He had to be on the roof.

She sprinted, no time for shoes.

Had to feel her way to the floor's stairwell.

Clambered up it as quickly as she could in the dark, breathing heavily and praying no one else was on the stairwell with her.

She couldn't be late. Not this time.

Nearly at the top she slipped on the steps, knees scraped up. Taste of blood.

She was too close.

Grappled with the door handle and fell into the night.

Rain immediately slicked her hair down the back of her coat. The thick material flapped in the freezing wind, intermittently revealing pastel pajama shorts and singlet.

Blood dripping from her lips from when she slipped.

The scene was empty.

No.

Not this time.

Not this _damn_ time.

Not while these stupid dreams and memories were still tangled in her dripping hair.

Blood was splattered artfully on the ground.

She began to shiver, clothes plastered to her body.

Bare feet.

She turned in anger; and there he was.

Silhouetted against the glaring advertisements over the city.

Mask half broken.

Torn sleeve.

About to leave.

She was too late.

Then their eyes met.

"BK 201."

He crouched on the edge of the building, about ten meters away from her.

"Please wait." She puffed, hating how desperate she sounded.

He turned, back to her, ready to sink back into the city, back into anonymity.

"Li-kun," she relented, and he froze for a moment and the rain slid down his jacket.

"Don't call me that," came the dull reply.

She shook violently with cold, fighting to keep her face impassive.

Blood continued to trickle down her lips.

She didn't want to say it.

Didn't want to admit something like that to herself. The verbalization of emotion.

He flung a wired knife into the darkness some twenty stories below where the cars thundered past.

He couldn't go.

Not again.

She rushed silently on bare feet towards him. Pulled up her gun. Had never been so close to him, except for when he was Lee; but that didn't count.

"Hei," she spoke, voice devoid of any emotion.

He stood up straight, her gun pressed between his shoulder blades.

"Hei, I just want to talk."

"Give up."

That banished all coldness in her body.

Give up?

"I will _not_ give up."

He turned his head slightly towards her and pulled what remained of the mask off his face, letting its remnants fall into the nothingness.

She could feel his ragged breathing through the gun, see the dark blood stain slowly blooming on his jacket's sleeve.

And she could feel the heat of his body.

It had always been hard to believe that he was alive, that he wasn't a robot.

But this body heat proved it.

She warily glanced into his heavy eyes, mentally creating a barrier so that she couldn't loose herself in them.

And suddenly she understood.

Those blank eyes, they weren't full of nothing. They were filled with everything.

Everything she had known, and everything she could ever know.

He had never seemed so old; and so painfully youthful.

And he knew her gun was a lie.

"Goodnight Misaki," he breathed, and with those serious eyes still locked on hers he whispered, "I like your pajamas."

And he was gone.

And as hard as she tried, she still couldn't help feeling that some of her had left with him.

She watched his figure fall among the raindrops.

Into the oblivion.

The lights came back up in the building.

She was left there like that in the rain, with thoughts of him still stuck in her hair.

But this time, she couldn't help thinking that maybe she hadn't been too late.

That she arrived just in time.

It was always on the nights that rained.

The nights when clouds covered the artificial heavens.

It was those nights when, against all odds, the starlight seemed so much brighter.

Well, to her anyway.

* * *

A/N: Thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews; they seriously brighten my day. Also thank you for those who posted my errors, I'm a terrible proof reader and I'll go back and correct my mistakes soon. I'm not going to be able to post very regularly with school and all, but I promise I will try to keep going with this. If you want a song for this chapter, go with either Black Mirror or Intervention from Arcade Fire, it's all a little dark, but that's what I like. Now, enough of my rambles. I hoped you enjoyed :)


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